nine2five 20 Future So Bright
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: "Going to the chapel and we're gonna get married.." Sing along!
1. The Bachelor Party

**A/N **I'm drowning in Charah fluffiness!

* * *

"_I reloaded."_

"_Finally!"_

"_I'm doomed!"_

"_We have a more…permanent partnership in mind."_

* * *

_Lub. Dub._

Three-Three.

_Lub. Dub._

Three-Three.

"You keep doing that and you might break that finger again, and it'll be another month to get ceremonied," mumbled Chuck.

Sarah immediately folded her fingers under. "Spoilsport." She started keeping time with her fist on Chuck's chest instead.

"Ow. How am I a spoilsport?" he complained. "Was it me who told you to get all cathartic on Leader's a-uh, anatomy? Not that I'm not glad you did…"

Sarah couldn't remember breaking her finger, or any of the bones she broke, although she remembered how hard Leader's body was, with all the mechanicals on it. She remembered the feel of Leader's throat between her hands, how much she wanted to close them. Her hand hurt, and she unclenched her fist before she broke her finger again. She didn't want to be that, define herself that way anymore. She closed her arms around the man beside her instead. "I'm glad Shaw killed her and not me." _Once was enough. _Five years was enough.

"So am I," said Chuck. He wasn't sure how that would have gone down and he didn't want to know. Let that part of her therapy stay confidential. "But you weren't really in a position to kill her anyway, that's probably why you felt so free to get so mad."

That's what Dreyfus said, but that was in his office. She didn't need that stuff invading their bedroom. "Some pillow talk _this _is."

Chuck shrugged as best he could, given their positions. "You want normal pillow talk, you should have married a normal man." For a second, he thought about mentioning muzzle velocities or something, but that sounded too much like a Casey version of pillow-talk and his mind shied away from the concept.

Sarah surged up to hover over him. "No way in hell, Mr. Bartowski. Your non-normal wife is going to get the non-normal husband she deserves."

Chuck smiled at his ferocious wife. "Yes, ma'am. But you really need to keep the weight off your hands." He rolled her over. "Allow me." He started kissing her lips, her cheek, her neck. Murmuring against her skin. "How shall I love thee…?"

Her breath caught. "Isn't that–ah!–how _do_ I love thee?" _Oh, how I _do_ love thee!_

He whispered into her ear. "Picky, picky."

* * *

Chuck looked up from his breakfast as his wife staggered out of the bedroom. "You okay?"

She shook her head tightly. "I thought you didn't flash in the bedroom."

The skill sets were reflexive again. _Me Superman, you Lois Lane. _"Blame it on Dad, I know I plan to."

"That sounds too creepy. I'll blame you. You can blame him."

"Sounds fair."

She frowned her way across the kitchen, her steps getting less tiny, less mincing, as she walked. "It's not like I don't have enough to blame him for already."

His fingers tightened on his coffee mug, but he kept his voice level. "You're rehearsing. You know Dreyfus warned us about that."

She slammed her mug out of the cabinet and onto the counter. "I'm pissed!" She turned to glare at him. "He tried to hit you with a surprise…thing, and destroy you." Destroy the Intersect, and Chuck Bartowski _was_ the Intersect. Orion may not be hiding from his children, but he was damn well hiding from _her_.

"I know that." Orion restored the 0.0, saved his mind, and then would have plugged his ability to upload anything ever again, if Carina's reflexes and fear of Sarah's avenging wrath hadn't gotten in the way. Chuck set aside his coffee and his newsfeeds. "I also know that, however unintentionally, he saved you from the bad guys' device, and all devices like them." Exactly what Orion wanted for his son. "I think about that instead."

"Sorry, that trick doesn't work for me. I'd love to think about all the good things he's done for _you_, but I can't remember this morning very well, and my hips really hurt." Which wasn't helping her mood one bit.

"Sorry," said Chuck, not sounding sorry. Time to change the subject. "So what are your plans for the rest of the–" He glanced at the clock "–oh my God, look at the time–uh, the rest of the afternoon?"

She poured coffee, drank it straight. "You mean, _after_ I take a shower and change the sheets? Ummm…We have to go pick up the gown from the seamstress." She stayed by the counter. No way she wanted to try sitting right now.

Chuck got up and went to the cabinet. "I can't wait to see you in it."

"No previews."

"Villain." He opened a bottle of Advil and got out a couple.

"I'm being traditional!"

Chuck's eyes started to cross. "You're a spy, my non-normal wife, and I have a computer in my head." He brought them to her.

She took them with hot coffee. "All the more reason."

He had to deal with 'cutting-edge' in all its various meanings on the job. He didn't need that stuff invading his home, their home. "Save the weirdness for the bad guys, huh? Works for me." Back to his feeds, back to work.

"I thought it might, Mister 'Prepare-to-be-heartwarmed.'"

He grinned without looking up. "My work here is done."

She stood straight, and grimaced. "In that case I'll let you do the sheets."

Walked right into that one. "Good thing you have that spa day with Ellie later."

"Right, spa day. I need to take that shower." She put the cup down and start hobbling.

"Uh, hello?" said Chuck. "Spa day?"

"They're decorative, Chuck. What I need right now is industrial strength."

"Want some help?"

She couldn't shake her head and walk at the same time. "How is 'us in the shower together' helping?"

He sagged, his charitable instincts frustrated, then he brightened. "Bacon?" He held out his plate.

"Now _that_ helps." She opened her mouth.

He put in a strip and handed her the plate. "Duh. Bacon helps everything."

* * *

She came out of the shower feeling and moving much better. They had that super-massaging shower head, but their water bill had taken the real beating.

Chuck had, surprisingly, only gotten the bed half made while she was gone. He stood by her side of the bed, pillow case in one hand and the phone in the other. For a second her mind seized, and not in a good, bedroom-y way. _The Carmichael phone!_

No. Just a phone. Charles Carmichael was dead and gone, and they'd all been at the surprisingly well-attended funeral as Shaw was buried next to the memory of his wife. Sarah continued walking, the little momentary hitch in her step just a ripple.

"Right, got it," said Chuck, and he ended the call.

"What's up?"

"Nothing," he said, whacking her pillow down the middle. "An article in the paper reminded me of a news item from last night, and I called it in. That was them calling back, with some keywords they want me to look for." He shoved the pillow in the case and let it unfold as it would.

"Anything I should be worried about?"

"Not unless you plan to be at a nightclub called Sabado's tomorrow night."

"I'll have to check. Carina has this whole surprise bachelorette party planned."

That got his attention. "I'll make sure I have bail money."

"Chuck."

"You think if we asked real nice, Fulcrum would let us borrow their Intersect?"

"_Chuck_."

"Alright, alright, alright," said he husband in his best bad British accent. "Um, she does know that it's not a surprise if–"

"I know, Chuck, I said the same thing, and she said that A) she's still a bachelorette, even if I'm not, and B) the surprise isn't what I think it is."

That's what he was afraid of. "You'll have your FRODO…?"

She nodded. "And my gun, my knives, and a flash-bang, just in case."

* * *

She came in the door carefully, holding her head still, not for any reason other than she had her hair up in some new style and seemed to be afraid of dislodging it. She stood in front of him and posed. "What do you think?"

"Pinny."

Her face fell. "You don't like it."

"I didn't say that," he corrected. "I like all your hairstyles. The only real difference between them is whether they make you stunningly beautiful or magnificently beautiful or some other variety of beautiful I haven't heard of yet–"

"And which one is this?"

Chuck swallowed, really hard. "It's…definitely in the magnificent category. You'll get up there next to me at the altar and every man in the Universe is suddenly going to start looking our way even if they can't really see us because–" he paused to take a breath "–They'll know the most beautiful woman in the world is getting married and it isn't to any of them."

Oh, God, she just had to kiss him for that, and she did. But she still remembered her question. "And my hair's a problem because…?"

"Because by the time you get all the pins out our wedding night will turn into our wedding tomorrow and that isn't…traditional."

"I could just leave it up, Chuck." She put up a hand.

He stopped her. "Please don't. I love your hair when it's down, it's so lovely…"

"But not beautiful?" she teased.

"Lovely is the hands-on version of beautiful," he said softly, running his hands along the bones of her cheek. "Or beautiful is the display-case version of lovely, take your pick. At the altar you'll be on display but that night you will definitely be hands on."

Sarah reached up, holding Chuck's hand in place, while getting out her phone with the other. She was the only person Chuck had ever met who could touch-dial a smart-screen. "Ellie? We're gonna need a new appointment with the salon…"

* * *

Chuck called Morgan from the kitchen. "Yeah, she bought it, she thinks the club is the site of a drug buy or a sting, they'll never go within a million miles of the place. Right, see you there, buddy."

* * *

Sarah called Carina from the garage. "You don't know any place called Sabado's, do you?"

"Never heard of it."

Sarah breathed easier. "Good, that means it's probably legit. Chuck tried to warn me off the place, probably where they're having their party."

Carina snorted loudly enough the phone picked it up. "Did he really think he could hide the truth from spies?"

"I think it's adorable that he tries," said Sarah. "I'm leaving to pick up Hannah now, we'll be there in a few."

* * *

The door opened and Chuck staggered in, supported and guided by his best friend. "Thanks, Morgan, what would I do without you? Who could believe that Virgin Marys could pack such a punch?"

"I could, Chuck, I could," said Morgan, "Especially since I spiked them all."

Chuck managed to focus on his compadre. "What?"

"Come on, man, what kind of bachelor party is it where the groom doesn't get drunk and do something stupid?"

"One where the bride's a kick-ass ninja spy girl, buddy!"

Morgan grimaced. "Okay, you got me there, but it's not like the Heavens didn't intercede for you, what with that whole stripper thing…'

Chuck tried to put his foot down, but suddenly the floor seemed a bit lower than usual. "I liked the girl they sent, wha'd you get rid of her for?"

"I didn't get rid of her, Chuck, she had her own gig to go to. And _our _girl only showed up an hour late."

"But I liked the first girl."

"I know, you tipped her well enough. But she had to go, Chuck, don't blame me, it was just business."

"Fine. Hey this looks like my bedroom."

"That's 'cause it _is_ your bedroom Chuck."

"Great idea, buddy, I am feeling kind'a beat." He saw Sarah's nightstand in front of him. "Hey, get me a pill."

"A pill?"

"One of Sarah's pills, they absorb…absorb…You don't get drunk."

"Too late for you, pal, but whatever you say." Morgan raced to get the pill, raced some more to get the water to take the pill. "Here, take this."

Chuck looked at the stuff in his hands. "What's this?"

"A pill so you don't get drunk."

"You're the best bud a guy like me could ever have, you know that?" He took the pill and washed it down.

Morgan positioned Chuck by the bed. "Okay, here we go, ready? Coat." He pulled Chuck's coat off, making him fall face first onto the bed. "Aaand you got the fall part down-get it, Chuck, fall? Down? Ah forget it. Then the shoes and…good night. Yeah." Morgan left the shoes on the chair, draped the jacket, and let himself out.

* * *

Something heavy hit the door and Chuck's lightning reflexes threw him to one side, the wrong side, where the bed wasn't. "Ah!" he moaned, trying to rub the point of impact, which he was still sitting on. He looked up.

Sarah stood in the doorway, her dress torn, dirty, and that may have been smoke damage. Her face had bandages, her arm had contusions, and two of her fingers were taped, fortunately not on her left hand. "Next time Ellie chooses the venue," she said in a dull, tired voice.

"There's going to be a next time?"

"You know what I mean." Sarah dropped her bag to the floor with a clank. "We all thought the SWAT team was strippers. Turned out they really _were_ a SWAT team." She reached behind herself to unzip.

Chuck struggled to rise. "Are you guys all right?"

"Are you kidding? Half of us were spies, the other half were analysts, trainers, and a couple of nurses Devon and Ellie knew from Burbank." Sarah shuddered, and her dress fell off. "Really mean nurses. Once we got the bad guys taken care of, they settled right down, though." She stepped out of it to give him a hand up, not the broken one.

"Sounds like you won."

"Define winning. Carina booked my bachelorette party in the middle of an FBI sting operation. If it hadn't been for Alex we'd be in jail now."

Chuck went white. "Alex?" Casey would explode.

Sarah blocked out the headline in the air. "Heroic FBI trainee protects civilians during gun battle, film at eleven. She'll get another commendation."

"Crap." Casey being proud was worse than Casey exploding.

"Could be worse. We heard there was a stripper got sent to a 10-year-old's birthday party by accident, instead of the nice little old fairy godmother that was supposed to show up. His mother was pissed."

* * *

**A/N2 **Maybe a plot point next chapter, something small.


	2. The Wedding

**A/N **Okay, here we go. The moment of truth.

* * *

"_Spoilsport."_

"_Bacon helps everything."_

"_Lovely is the hands-on version of beautiful."_

"_Next time Ellie chooses the venue."_

* * *

Roses. He smelled roses.

Which was weird, since he'd ordered gardenias. Not that he'd had much say in the flower department, or any other department, even when it came to his own wedding. Sarah'd gone to Ellie first, knowing how unhappy his sister was with the whole wedding situation, especially the little things, like a lack of pictures and oh yes, not being invited. She'd been in the air by then, off to her own honeymoon, but pointing out that little fact really wasn't as helpful as he'd hoped it might be.

Chuck wondered if Sarah was beginning to regret her decision. Ellie's own experience with wedding planners was limited to Honey Woodcombe, not the best role model. Casey'd done a much better job, with Ellie's simpler dreams, Chuck's bigger budget, and much less time, but unfortunately Ellie hadn't been there to see it.

Just as well. Chuck didn't want _his_–well, Sarah's–wedding designed by some Marines as a field exercise. His sister was bad enough on her own.

A door opened, the groom's dressing room, not that Chuck had needed any help dressing himself, and his best man stepped out.

"Devon, do you smell roses?"

"Yeah, bro, a last-minute delivery. They clashed with the gardenias, though, so I figured I'd stash them someplace safe until the General gave us our orders."

They spoke of the Devil and they saw her horns. Drawn by their voices, the General–Ellie Bartowski-Woodcombe at her most autocratic–stepped out into the hall, making sure none of the men could see into the bride's sanctum. She wrinkled her nose. "Who ordered roses?"

Chuck flashed his default I-didn't-do-anything-so-don't-blame-me grin."Not me, sis, no roses of any kind."

Devon spoke up. "They just came in, El. No card or anything, so I stuck 'em in there." He gestured to the door at his back.

"Get rid of them," said Ellie curtly. "Today is gardenias only." What Sarah wanted, Sarah got. "Chuck, go into the chapel and make yourself useful. Don't let me catch you near this door again." What Sarah didn't care so much about, _Ellie_ got.

* * *

Chuck walked into the chapel, wondering what his sister-and-commander expected him to do. The bunting was hung properly, the flowers placed as directed. The chapel personnel had everything well in hand, and what they didn't have handled the assorted and hitherto-unknown family members did. Sarah had a lot of strong and solemn CIA-employed male relatives he'd never met, while he had..."Hey, Dimples. How's–Pebbles? You're here!"

Pebbles stood. Slowly, but all on his own. "Told you I would be," he said, taking Chuck's hand gladly. "You didn't have to hold the wedding for me…"

"You wish," said Muffin. "Agent Walker didn't want to walk down the aisle on crutches, that's what _I_ heard."

"You sure it was your fingers that Ladyfeelings broke?" asked Showtunes. "It seems you been hearing a lot of strange things lately…"

"Here we go," said Dimples with much patience. "Which one of you wants to start a fight at Agent Walker's wedding?"

Apparently none. Chuck smiled at the sudden peace and quiet. "The funny thing is, they originally went with the long sleeves for Carina's sake, but then Sarah broke her finger, and she insisted on waiting until it healed before she'd let me put a ring on it. Then right after _that_ happened, they got into a fight and now they _both_ have bruises."

Much head-shaking ensued. "Don't worry, Tough Guy. We ain't gonna let nothing happen to you guys today except what you _want_ to happen." That got a chorus of agreement.

Chuck had no fear of a gun fight in the dining hall this time.

Many guests had already arrived, and Chuck excused himself to greet them because…he was _Chuck_. Quite a few sported bandages and subdued limps, and he figured them for guests at Sarah's party. Then he spotted a more familiar face. "Alex!"

She turned and recognized him. "Mr. Bartowski."

"Please, call me Chuck," he said. "I think I can promise my bride won't kill you, not after all you did at her party."

Alex blushed, as she always did when praised. "It was nothing."

"Alex, what have I told you about that," said the diminutive brunette she'd been talking to. "Don't you ever sell yourself short–"

"Plenty of people willing to do that for you," chorused Alex with her.

The brunette smiled. "Better." She turned to Chuck and stuck out her hand. "Hi Chuck, I'm Hannah."

Chuck had no problem acting surprised, he'd only seen her a couple of times during that ill-fated plane flight. "The AIC over in Burbank that Sarah keeps telling me about? A pleasure to meet you at last." He shook hands warmly.

Hannah looked confused. "But…I'm not an agent."

"Analyst also starts with 'A'," said Chuck, laughing. "I'm told they're going to create a new position if they can find more analysts like you."

Now it was Hannah's turn to blush, which she covered by introducing her young man.

"Welcome to Washington," said Chuck, neutrally.

"Actually, I came from here, originally. I transferred to LA right after she did."

It didn't take a CIA analyst to figure out _that_ chain of events. "Welcome back, then," said Chuck, and then he excused himself to meet other guests.

* * *

Ellie left the bride's dressing room, satisfied that matters could be allowed to progress there without her direct supervision for a few minutes at least. Time to make sure the other parts of her temporary domain were in a similar state of order. There may be no danger of gun battles in the foyer, but a damaged ice sculpture could still ruin everything.

She snuck a peek into the chapel, saw Chuck doing what he did best, and she had a quiet word with the leader of the security team to make sure his men were capturing every candid moment with their hidden cameras. Hopefully what they lacked in professional skill they could make up for in quantity.

She went to the reception hall on the ground floor, and caught Morgan Grimes with one of the appetizers at his lips. "Morgan Grimes! Put that down this instant! I will not have you officiating at my brother's wedding with fish-breath."

Grimes complied even as he complained. "Come on, Ellie, you know how I get when I'm nervous. I've never done this before."

"Don't touch that. We did _not_ pay for those and I certainly don't want to see them on our bill because of you!" She signaled a server to remove them. "How about you get back to your waiting room and study…whatever lines it is you have to study."

Morgan slunk out of the room, and she did a quick walk-through, making sure all the settings were perfect, and none of the wait staff were dead and stuffed under any tables. "Good." Back to the bridal dressing room she went. Time to get this show on the road.

* * *

"Aunt Diane!" said Chuck. He opened his arms as he approached, but she closed them again with a stern glare. "Still no hugs, huh?"

Here expression softened. "I'm not totally averse to them, Chuck, but given our heights one of us would need to do something undignified. Save that sort of thing for the Fourth of July picnic, not your wedding."

Chuck smiled. "Whatever you say, Aunt Diane." He looked at her escort. "Greetings, my four large and unsmiling cousins." He turned back to their boss. "The ceremony should be starting soon, I think the atomic clock takes its time from Ellie these days." Chuck noticed the wistful look on General Beckman's face. "Perhaps you'd like to sit next to Cole…" He turned to point. "He looks a little lost with no one shooting him."

"Don't you mean shooting _at_ him?"

"I was quite precise in my statement, Aunt Diane–"

"Chuck!" Four hands reached into jackets as a large man ran up to the group, but his target was Chuck, not their own protectee. "Chuck, the General says it's time. You have to get in position now or there'll be hell to pay. Hi, Aunt Diane." Devon dragged the groom off before she could say anything.

_The General?_ Diane Beckman smiled, knowing her favorite protégé had everything well in hand. She could relax, play a different part for a while. Mr. Barker was looking a little lonely, wasn't he?

* * *

The chapel manager approached nervously, terrorized as they all were by the intense brunette waiting for him.

"_Where is my Wedding March?"_

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Woodcombe, but the CD player assigned for this room is giving us some trouble, the tray won't open."

Ellie'd seen the antique sound system first hand, but they'd assured her they were in the process of upgrading. "Take that antique piece of junk and throw it out, before you ruin someone else's wedding!"

She paused, staring, waiting for something, and the manager realized it was him. "Do it!" he ordered some underling.

"And bring me a mike," said Ellie, getting out her smartphone. "Fortunately I came prepared."

* * *

Not too many people noticed the woman standing at the front of the chapel, but the low buzz of conversation died away completely when the music started. Everyone turned as a beautiful redhead in a long-sleeved peach gown stepped out onto the aisle, walking to the beat, slow and stately. Ellie wasn't too happy that tradition demanded that her husband was partnered with Carina of all people, but her eagle eye saw no reason to complain so far. Between Ellie and Sarah, she was walking a very strait and narrow path today.

A couple appeared in the doorway behind Carina, and all eyes turned. The bride glowed, her gown perhaps a bit too snug for proper decorum, but what could you expect from something that had originally been selected by Carina? At least John, proud and tall in his Marine dress uniform, looked the part, as he offered his elbow to the bride for her walk down the aisle.

Sarah really needed him today, to keep her on course as she noted the many, many people who'd come to see her leave her old life and begin a new one, a life she wouldn't have wanted, people she wouldn't have known, if it hadn't been for Chuck. Ellie watched Sarah's face behind the veil, so alive, so animated, eyes moving, gaze shifting from face to face. Ellie would have liked to remember her own wedding, the good parts especially, but she could only clearly remember Devon's face as she walked toward him. For her, Devon was the diamond, and Chuck had worked hard–she only learned later _how_ hard–to make the setting perfect.

Now she was returning the favor.

Sarah already had her diamond, it was the setting she was after. The people, the words, and Ellie'd put that together for her. Well, the people, at any rate, and truth be told, it wasn't entirely for Sarah. Carina had often been the bride but never a bridesmaid, and Ellie herself wanted that second photo album.

The setting was ready. Sarah would have to handle the words on her own.

Ellie looked for the smaller things as the bride got closer. Ring finger bare, good. Sarah'd insisted on waiting until the last minute to remove her ring, and then with the CD fiasco Ellie hadn't been on hand to personally make sure it got handed off to Devon properly. The bouquet hid Sarah's taped fingers, and…oh no. That sprig of plastic flowers from Las Vegas was in there! Ellie looked up to check the veil, but thankfully it seemed the plastic flowers were the only items to escape Sarah's treasure chest for _this_ ceremony.

With most of the audience behind her Sarah's gaze was now focused on the man in front of her, and Ellie followed that gaze. Chuck was looking fine this morning, ready and waiting to receive his bride. A part of Ellie was willing to admit that she'd been hoping for one of his gobsmacked oh-my-God-she's-so-beautiful expressions, but she was disappointed this time.

* * *

_He was here. She was here. _

The combat suit was gone, and the veil was real, but the Intersect couldn't help noticing she still held the same sprig of plastic flowers in her hand._ God she was beautiful. _

_She smiled at him, for him, and the sun rose. _Today, tomorrow, and hopefully forever.

Casey stopped precisely on coda, right in front of him, and saluted. Chuck said, "Thank you, Colonel", and Casey dropped the salute and turned to find his seat (held for him, naturally) as Chuck turned and Sarah took that final step forward.

* * *

_Oh, God, is it my turn already?_

Morgan had never married anyone. He'd never even tried to marry anyone. He'd been looking for a bathroom when he stumbled into that Star Trek trivia contest. How was he supposed to know it was a catechism?

Word to the wise, never get drunk at Comic-Con.

That's what the United Federation of Planets was for, marrying people at Comic-Con, so they'd have a memory to treasure (or regret) for the rest of their lives. They were his kind of people, tolerant and non-sectarian, willing to perform the ceremony for people in _any_ costume. He certainly wasn't licensed to marry people in DC, but unfortunately for him they were already married, all he was supposed to do was stumble through the mostly-forgotten words of a ceremony he'd only seen performed.

_Oh God, why did I ever volunteer for this?_

He stepped forward. "Dearly Beloved…" _Okay, that's a start, now what? _For a second he froze in terror._ Come on, what kind of Trekkie am I?_ What would Picard do? Suddenly he knew the answer. "Charles, son of Stephen, does your heart beat only for this woman?"

_Oo, buddy, going for the Klingon!_ Chuck adopted a suitably fierce scowl on his face. "Yes."

"And do you swear to join with her and stand with her against all who would oppose you?"

"I swear." _If she'd let me._

Morgan decided to mix it up a little. "I bid you, speak your heart." He gestured at Sarah.

_Wow, buddy, throw me in at the deep end, why don't you?_ Chuck turned to Sarah. Vows. His vows. In Klingon? He hadn't even gotten them straight in English yet! "Sarah. I am…not a warrior, not in my heart, but…you know this and here you are anyway." The audience laughed softly. "With you I will stand, and for you I will fight to my last breath. To you I can only yield. My heart is yours, as it has always been and ever will be." _No vows, just me._

"Honor gives little comfort to a man alone in his home, and in his heart," quoted Morgan. "Sarah, daughter of Jack, does your heart beat only for this man?"

"Yes," she said, as firmly as Chuck had.

"And do you swear to join with him and stand with him against all who would oppose you?"

"I swear." _I'd stand before him, if he'd let me._

"I bid you, speak your heart."

She turned to Chuck, took his hands, and he could feel her trembling. She wanted this, she'd asked for this, she had no idea what to say. "Chuck, you...are a warrior, you _are_ that guy. You don't always fight, but you always strive, you always succeed, in ways where mere warriors would only fail. When we met, I knew you wanted to speak to me, but you turned away from what you wanted to help a child in trouble. No 'warrior' would have done that, Chuck, but a hero would have. A hero did. I fell for you then, Chuck. It took me a long time to realize it, and longer to admit it. I love you, Chuck Bartowski. I always have."

Complete silence reigned, broken only by Morgan's snuffling as he wiped his eyes. Finally he gasped out, "How hollow is the sound of victory, without someone to share it with? Charles Irving Bartowski, do you claim this woman as your own?"

"I do."

"And do you, Sarah–?"

"Mine."

"Give me the rings."

Devon pulled the rings from his pocket, and handed them to Chuck, but Chuck didn't hand them to Morgan, putting them in his pocket instead.

"Chuck?" asked Sarah.

His hand came out of his pocket with a little box. Inside were two bands, made of 24-karat pink gold. "For us. For ever." He handed those rings to Morgan.

Morgan took the rings in his clasped hands. "We all know that the Great Bird of the Galaxy poops on us all, just and unjust alike. May he poop on you less, and on your enemies more." Everyone laughed. Morgan handed the rings back to Chuck, and Chuck slid the first on Sarah's finger, then she the second.

Everyone heard her say, "Perfect."

"Turn and clasp your hands." When they did, Morgan raised his hand, spread in a 'V', two fingers to each side. "They came before us two." He put his hand over theirs, and slid his fingers together. He lifted their hands with his own. "They leave us as one. Let the gods tremble."

He released their hands and they turned back to each other. Chuck lifted the veil, for the second and final time.

"One more thing," said Morgan.

They froze, and Chuck stared at his friend in utter confusion. "Morgan?"

Morgan was staring at Sarah, looking...impish. "You're standing in front of a bomb, with seven seconds left on the clock."

She took a deep breath, nodded.

"Go."

* * *

**A/N2 **The ceremony is mostly the Klingon from DS9, but I added my own little bits here and there.


	3. The Reception

**A/N **Lots of songs referenced here, each major guest selects a special number of their own.

* * *

"_Do you smell roses?"_

"_I've never done this before__."_

_"Charles, son of Stephen, does your heart beat only for this woman?"_

_"Mine."_

* * *

The DJ put all the specials in a separate basket, more than half of which had never seen the inside of a room like this. _I thought it was supposed to be a wedding._ From up above, the sound of laughter, loud and happy, penetrated the floor, followed by the low rumble of applause. _Sounds like Open Mike night up there._

It felt wrong doing it this way, and he checked his schedule again. No cocktail hour, no photographer, and a playlist that would fit in a rock concert better than a reception.

"Are you ready?" asked the manager nervously.

"As ready as I can be with an itinerary like this," he replied. "This is crazy."

"_She's_ crazy!" hissed the manager. "Just do it, and make it work!" He stalked off to his office, leaving the DJ shaking his head behind him.

_This is the strangest gig I ever played._

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bartowski!"

The doors opened, and Chuck and Sarah swept into the room to great applause, as if most of the people hadn't already shaken their hands and taken their picture just outside. Ellie, knowing her brother liked posing for pictures about as much as he liked the PDA, had opted for a more subtle approach, with Sarah's eager approval. Every spy in the room had been told to bring their camera of choice and snap every candid shot they could. The few posed shots taken in the foyer would be just the tip of tonight's iceberg.

When they got to the middle of the room, Ellie looked over at the main table, where her husband had taken his place. He pointed to himself, and she nodded.

The sound of bells rang throughout the room, as Devon tapped his glass with a spoon to get everyone's attention. "Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you all for coming, and making this celebration the event it has become. For many years, the only family Chuck and his sister Ellie had was each other, and as a result, their family bond is the strongest I've ever had the good fortune to witness. On the day we met in medical school, I could tell that Ellie's devotion to her brother was paramount, and as I discovered on the day I met him, well-justified. His devotion to her was even greater, if such a thing could be imagined. On the day of Ellie's and my wedding, Chuck pretty much single-handedly turned a morning disaster into an evening miracle, giving his sister the wedding of her dreams. And today his sister, my wife Eleanor Faye Bartowski-Woodcombe, has done the same for him, creating the marvelous ceremony we just witnessed upstairs. Good job, honey!" The audience applauded her politely. "But I can't really say single-handedly, can I, since at every step Sarah was there, his star, his lodestone, his woman of action. Since she entered Chuck's life, he's a changed man. What was a life of hopes and dreams became a life of planning and accomplishment. I know I was the fortunate one, when I entered into a family bond with Ellie, but I'm not at all sure about Chuck and Sarah. They are both equally fortunate, and equally blessed. Ladies and Gentlemen, please join me in a toast to the happy couple!" He raised his glass. "Chuck and Sarah, peace and long life!"

As the assembled guests drank to their health and happiness, guitar music came from the speakers as the DJ started up Devon's own special song, and Chuck took Sarah into his arms for their first (official) dance as (official) husband and wife.

_The smile on your face_

_Lets me know that you need me._

_There's a truth in your eyes_

_Saying you'll never leave me._

_The touch of your hand says you'll catch me whenever I fall._

_You say it best when you say nothing at all._

As they danced, Morgan and Alex came over to Devon. "This is a wonderful song, Mr. Woodcombe," said Alex. "I love Notting Hill."

Devon smiled. "One of the most romantic movies I know." He elbowed Morgan gently in the arm.

Morgan nodded amiably, completely missing the point. "That was a great toast," he added, "A perfect Star Trek quote."

Devon looked confused. "A perfect what?"

* * *

Dinner, at least the first course of it, was served, at least to Chuck and Sarah. After a few minutes, Ellie noticed that the levels of salad in their bowls had not really diminished, so she left Devon chatting with Hannah while she went over to the main table. "Something wrong?"

"Not at all," said Chuck loudly. He may have been the groom but she was still the big sister. "I love salad." A few people laughed as he shoved a huge wad of greenery in his mouth and started chewing with enthusiasm.

"And you, Sarah?"

"Carina told me to eat light, she has a plan."

Ellie paled. She knew all about Carina and plans. "Oh God."

The DJ's voice echoed from the speakers. "This next song is dedicated to the happy couple from Eleanor Woodcombe."

The spotlight caught her with face slack and eyes wide, Carina's evil superpower at work. Chuck listened to the music and Sarah watched him for her cues as she listened. Certainly the words of the first verse rang no bells with her, or apparently Chuck either.

_Why do you have to go and make things so complicated?_

_I see the way you're acting like you're somebody else_

_Gets me frustrated_

_Life's like this_

_You, you fall and you crawl and you break_

_And you take what you get and you turn it into honesty_

_You promised me I'm never gonna find you fake it_

_No, no, no_

Chuck fell back laughing at the first line, and Sarah smiled, knowing he'd share the joke with her later. She liked the later lines, herself. "Your falling and breaking days are over, mister," she said loudly.

He leaned in and gave a kiss, to more applause. Then she burst out laughing, but no one knew why.

It was…complicated.

* * *

Sarah was really beginning to wish Carina'd get on with her plan, whatever it was. She'd been dragging out eating her second course for far too long.

Another chime rang out, and the DJ spoke again, "Carina Miller."

The microphone was passed to the maid of honor. "I'm supposed to give a speech now, but I'm not going to. Hey Blondie," she called. "Dance with me."

The dance floor was empty except for Carina in…half of her bridesmaid's dress. The top half. The bottom had been covering a pair of exercise shorts, but that disguise had been left on the edge of the parquet square, guarded by her date for the evening, Officer Davis.

Sarah stood and walked to the edge of the floor, followed by Chuck, and pulled at the Velcro tabs on her own dress, stepping out onto the floor in her own shorts, without the high heels. Carina made a gesture, and music spilled from the speakers, but it wasn't suited for any dance floor in America.

It was a mood piece, Carina style. Sarah could imagine it playing it at the edge of some sand pit in Thailand, as bored warlords watched gladiators fight to the death. She smiled, and got in the mood.

Carina struck on the beat, nowhere near her usual speed, and Sarah blocked and responded with a strike of her own, also delivered in what passed for slow motion. Let her reflexes scream all they wanted, she was dancing.

"_She's a woman, you know what I mean,_

_You better listen, listen to me,_

_She's gonna set you free, yeah.."_

They moved around the floor, spinning, kicking, dodging and feinting, a ballet de combat, a dance of near-death. No one who saw it could understand how either woman was still standing unbloodied, even those who knew what they were doing. Some of the hand-to-hand instructors were filming it for analysis and, possibly, training materials.

The song came to a sudden stop, but not sudden enough. Both women stepped back and bowed on the last note, then fell into each other's arms, laughing as the audience applauded. The deejay just shook his head and cued up some new stuff. _Strangest gig ever_.

Carina reclaimed the microphone. "Chuck," she said, and everyone looked over at the groom as he stood at the edge of the floor, smiling. "Take good care of her. She can defend herself against everyone but you."

Chuck handed off his glass, and brought the skirt to his wife's gown onto the floor for her to step into. Once she was done fastening the Velcro again, he looked at Carina and pointed to a spot on the floor just in front of him. She stepped forward.

Chuck flashed. With perfect precision and blinding speed, he slapped her, the most perfect slap the world had ever seen. It stung. It left a mark. It echoed through the hall, chasing all other sounds out. It did her no damage whatsoever, full of sound and fury, signifying…everything.

Carina stared at him, wide-eyed. The audience wondered at Chuck's sudden and obvious death wish.

"Now you're forgiven," he said.

Carina grinned. "Finally!" She swept him up in a bone-crushing hug, deciding at the last minute to top it off with a kiss.

"A-_hem_," said Sarah loudly, standing right there.

Carina broke it off. "Oh, relax. It's the only one I'm ever gonna get, I just wanted to make it good."

For Carina, that wasn't good. That was modest, almost…chaste. Still, Sarah moved in close, said softly, "Someone needs to be taught a lesson."

Carina froze.

Sarah didn't pounce on Chuck this time, just turned to him, and said, "Husband."

She was the only other person in the room at that moment. "Wife," he said, taking her in his arms. He kissed her, by no means modest or chaste.

The ice sculpture started to melt faster.

Chuck spun Sarah into a perfect dip, lips still together, and held that position, unknowing as innumerable cameras captured the moment.

Officer Davis stepped over to his date, standing there watching the couple with a curiously sad expression on her face. He offered some measure of a comfort with a little hug. Being a gentleman, he put one hand around her waist.

Being no lady, Carina took that hand and moved it someplace lower down.

Being an officer as well as a gentleman, he took matters, well, in hand. "Think they'll miss us?"

"Not in the least."

Chuck finally raised his wife up again and broke the kiss. They stood there together, staring into each other's eyes, and then suddenly remembered where they were. Chuck turned red as Sarah said, "See?" She looked for her friend, but Carina was nowhere in sight.

"Where'd she go?"

* * *

"Colonel! Bold choice there with the music," said Chuck when the swirl of the crowd brought them together. Sarah was still polishing off her delayed dinner, but he decided to mingle before they brought the cake out.

Casey looked less than thrilled with the praise. Or maybe it was because he hadn't had a cigar in a while and hadn't yet figured out how to escape so he could have one in peace. "Only you could ruin Doris Day, Bartowski."

Chuck raised a hand to his chest in wounded innocence. "Hey, what'd _I_ do? Pink Martini made it, I just happen to be among the select few who appreciate its darker tone and more ambivalent take on the human condition. I thought you of all people would appreciate that."

"Oh, I appreciate that alright, Chuck, but I would have expected, under these peculiar circumstances and all, that you and the little woman might have preferred a little unbridled optimism."

"I thought that's what it _was_," said the little woman, coming up from behind him. "For you, I mean."

Casey grunted, taking a sip of his drink.

"It's true, Casey, really," said Chuck, slipping an arm around his bride's waist as if she hadn't been there all night. "If you had gone with the Doris Day, I would have had to assume you'd been kidnapped by space aliens and I've already used that line."

Casey gave him a strange look, and turned to Sarah. "I swear he's nerdier than usual tonight. Did you do that?"

Chuck and Sarah laughed, and turned away to mingle. "I sure hope so," she said as she left.

Casey turned away, and found himself confronted by his incognito commanding officer.

"Colonel Casey."

"Aunt Diane."

"You selected that atrocity?"

It wasn't _that_ bad. "I underestimated my opposition, ma'am. It won't happen again."

"Don't worry about it, Colonel," said the General, with a bit of a smile. "I've got your back."

* * *

The DJ spoke again. "Morgan Grimes."

Chuck recognized the first notes instantly. "Going with the classics, eh, buddy?" He held up his cake. "Hmm, can't exactly toast with cake."

Morgan tapped his plate to Chuck's in salute. "What can I say, Chuck? Nobody beats the Beatles."

_I've just seen a face,_

_I can't forget the time or place_

_That we'd just met, she's just the girl for me_

_And I want all the world to see we've met._

Morgan turned to Alex and tried to sing along, but of course he tripped over his own tongue and mangled the words. Chuck did better, singing the last verse to Sarah, but then the DJ hit him with _It's The End of the World as We Know It_, and he threw in the towel.

* * *

"This next song is from Sarah Walker." The spotlight moved over the crowd, but there was no Sarah Walker on the guest list. "Sarah Walker?" The DJ looked at Ellie, who nodded. The speakers started pounding with pounding piano power chords.

Chuck looked at Sarah in surprise. "Sarah?"

"My dad liked it," she admitted.

_Waterloo - I was defeated, you won the war_

_Waterloo - Promise to love you for ever more_

_Waterloo - Couldn't escape if I wanted to_

_Waterloo - Knowing my fate is to be with you_

_Waterloo - Finally facing my Waterloo_

Chuck looked unhappy. "I…wasn't aware we were at war."

"Not your war, Chuck," said Sarah, kissing him again. "Just hers." She held him closer as their bodies swayed, completely ignoring the beat.

* * *

Again the sound of bells, and the next special was announced. "Aunt Diane."

Casey perked up his ears, looking around for Chuck and Sarah, spotting his boss along the way. Piano music, slow and melodic, spilled from the speakers, and a man started to sing. It sounded like…Elvis.

_I give, give you my heart  
Today, tomorrow and forever  
You'll always be my love_

Chuck and Sarah choked on their drinks. As half a dozen people rushed to get the happy couple napkins, Casey found Beckman staring at him. He raised a glass in salute. He didn't need to understand. The dirty looks her victims gave her were more than enough for him.

* * *

Chuck was sitting in his chair watching Sarah groove to _All She Wants to Do is Dance_ when Morgan came over. "What's up, buddy?" he asked, not needing to look away from his beautifully gyrating wife to know something was wrong. Well, maybe not wrong, but definitely up.

"I don't know Chuck, you think I might have overdone it with Alex, with that whole Beatles thing?"

The song was coming to a close, that's the only reason Chuck could take his eyes away from the delightful vision, even for Morgan. "Something the matter?"

"I don't know, but ever since then she's been, I don't know, _off._ I can't explain it. It's like she changed her mind or something. You think she light be wanting to break up?"

The DJ spoke before Chuck could answer. "Alex McHugh." Then the guitar drove whatever he might have wanted to say from his lips. It wasn't a dancing song but somehow Sarah was still managing to dance to it. So was Alex.

Chuck and Morgan just sat in awe.

_Tonight tonight, he's gonna get it right_

_Even losers can get lucky sometimes_

_All the freaks go on a winning streak_

_In a perfect world, all the geeks get the girls_

Chuck sat blinking when the song ended. "You still want to know what I think, buddy?"

The two ladies advanced on their men.

"We live in a perfect world, don't we, Chuck?"

"We certainly mmmp!" Sarah sat on Chuck's lap as Alex dragged Morgan off to the floor.

"Something romantic!" she called to the DJ.

The poor guy looked for someplace to bang his head. Now_ they want romantic! _ He looked over at the bride, just sitting in the groom's lap. _Fine._ "Here's a little romance from Sarah Bartowski." Soft guitar music fell like flower petals from the speakers.

_And I've always lived like this_

_Keeping at comfortable distance._

_And up until now I've sworn to myself_

_That I'm content with loneliness._

_Because none of it was ever worth the risk._

_Well you are the only exception._

_You are the only exception._

Sarah hummed the last words– "I'm on my way to believing"–when she felt Chuck's fingers move among hers, felt liquid flowing on her face, and she jerked her head back in alarm. "Chuck?"

The DJ looked down at the note of distress in her voice.

Chuck's voice was hoarse. "I promise you, Sarah–I _vow–_that you will never have any reason to stop believing."

Sarah looked at her husband's face, wiped his tears with her fingers. "Chuck…it's just a song, I already believe."

Chuck shook his head. "Belief isn't a thing, Sarah. It's an action, it's a state of mind, it's a million things and all of them are fragile and delicate and all of them can be killed by a wrong word or a thoughtless gesture and I never want to do that to you."

Sarah put her head up against his. "Chuck, if there's one thing I've learned about you, it's that whatever you set your mind to do you do, usually far beyond anyone's wildest dreams. If you want to never disappoint me, I think–I _believe_–the stars will fall before it happens."

Her words echoed in silence, the music stopped and everyone standing. The DJ stared down on them, enthralled. Ellie had tears in her eyes.

"I think they heard us," said Chuck.

Morgan started applauding. Soon the whole room was full of cheering. Ellie glared at the DJ, made an imperative gesture.

"Psst, hey buddy," whispered the DJ. "I still got your song to do. You want me to play this?"

It took Chuck a second to remember what he'd written down. Totally not the right song for this moment. "Can you think of something better?"

"Trust me, pal–"

_Trust me, Chuck._

"This is what I do." He went back to his microphone. "I, uh, I think we have time for one more song, folks, so let's make it a good one. From Charles Bartowski to his lovely bride." A soft melody flowed from the speakers.

_You know I need your love_  
_You've got that hold over me_  
_Long as I've got your love_  
_You know that I'll never leave_  
_When I wanted you to share my life_  
_I had no doubt in my mind_  
_And it's been you woman_  
_Right down the line_

_I know how much I lean on you_  
_Only you can see_  
_The changes that I've been through_  
_Have left a mark on me_  
_You've been as constant as a Northern Star_  
_The brightest light that shines_  
_It's been you woman right down the line_

_I just wanna say this is my way_  
_Of tellin' you everything_  
_I could never say before_  
_Yeah this is my way of tellin' you_  
_That every day I'm lovin' you so much more_

_'Cause you believed in me through my darkest night_  
_Put somethin' better inside of me_  
_You brought me into the light_  
_Threw away all those crazy dreams_  
_I put them all behind_  
_And it was you woman_  
_Right down the line_

_I just wanna say this is my way of tellin' you everything_  
_I could never say before_  
_Yeah this is my way of tellin' you_  
_Everything I could never say before_  
_Yeah this is my way of tellin' you_  
_That every day I'm lovin' you so much more_

_If I should doubt myself, if I'm losing ground_  
_I won't turn to someone else_  
_They'd only let me down_  
_When I wanted you to share my life_  
_I had no doubt in my mind_  
_And it's been you woman_  
_Right down the line_

Sarah nestled into her husband's arms as the music played. She lifted up his hand, the one with the ring, and started spinning the metal band. "Round and round and round he goes, where he stops–Hey, look at that." She looked into her husband's eyes. "I win again."

* * *

**A/N2 **I have to thank PeterOinNYC for some of the music used here, some really good songs I'd never heard of. For those interested, the songs were

'When You Say Nothing At All', by Roan Keating, as heard in the movie Notting Hill, which is what Chuck would be like if Chuck was a movie. Wall-E is also very Chuck-like.

'Complicated' by Avril Lavigne.

'Woman', by Wolfmother, as heard in Chuck vs. Phase Three.

The Pink Martini version of 'Que Sera Sera' is marvelously creepy.

'I've Just Seen a Face', by the Beatles.

'Waterloo' by ABBA.

'Today, Tomorrow, and Forever', by Elvis Presley.

'All the Geeks Get the Girls', by American HiFi.

"The Only Exception', by Paramore.

'Right Down the Line', by Gerry Rafferty.

I'll be in Massachusetts for Readercon from Thursday to Sunday, so the last episode may take a while to come out.


	4. The Honeymoon

**A/N **Hey, look! I found the plotty parts! But don't worry, it gets all fluffy again at the end.

The first parts of this chapter take place at the same times as the wedding and the reception. I tried to make the transitions clean and the connections to those previous chapters pretty clear and obvious.

* * *

"_Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bartowski!"_

"_Now you're forgiven."_

"_We live in a perfect world, don't we, Chuck?" _

"_I win again." _

* * *

The man sat in his car, watching with a small case of nerves as the florist delivered the roses. Maybe three was overdoing it. Leader wouldn't have approved, if only because some of the death traps he'd arranged overlapped others and could potentially cancel each other out, but Leader was dead. Elegance be damned, sometimes you needed a little brute force and collateral damage to get the job done.

* * *

Orion stared at his last hope with bitter distaste. _There's no fool like an old fool._ That all of his hopes, dreams, fears and sacrifices should come to this!

He'd been doomed from the start, he saw that now. After Roarke, he thought he'd been more careful. He'd known from the start that his new backers were government, known that they had other plans for his project, but he needed the money, he needed the security. He'd needed…no. He couldn't let himself think about her, not now.

Not when his children, _her_ children, needed him. Charles was always getting into trouble, especially Intersect-related trouble, and this time he'd pulled Eleanor into it with him. At least he could trust _her_ to have Charles' back, trust her to try to make the Intersect work for Chuck and not against him, until he could do what a father should do, keep his children safe.

Then he'd gone and made it worse, like the fool he was and always had been. They'd never listen to him now, and they'd be right. He'd acted as a spy, not as a parent, while Sarah was acting as a wife, even while she was acting as a spy. She'd made him move twice already.

He couldn't stay, but he couldn't leave. _She_ would expect him to be watching over their children, when she got back. _If_ she go–no! She would come back! She _would_ come back! She would see what fine people her children had become, even if it killed him.

_Hmmm._

Later. Too many things to do here first, things he should have done long ago. He closed the case on his current torment and got out the wrapping paper.

_I've got a wedding to go to._

* * *

The man in the car checked his watch again. Nothing. What could have gone wrong? The chemical bomb in the vase should have gone off by now, unless they'd put it back in the fridge and who would do that? Roses go to the bride on her wedding day.

Pure poetry. Not to mention precise and painful, both qualities he approved of.

The C4 in the CD player was neither. He checked his watch again. _It'll have to do._

* * *

Stephen Bartowski was a schnook. The look of it, the feel of it, suited him. No one looked at schnooks, or took them seriously. Neither a threat nor a prize, he slid under everyone's radar and penetrated areas that should have been off-limits, simply because no one noticed him at all.

In this case he helped carry in the ice sculpture. The sculptor thought he worked for the hall, the caterer thought he was the sculptor's assistant. Neither noticed as he stepped away from the group to leave a slim package on the woefully underpopulated gift table. He'd hoped it would have more cover but…he slid it under the edge of a large tray. That would have to do. He looked up as the sounds of the Wedding March came through the floor, visualizing the scene that his system was recording back in his Orion-cave. Then he gathered up the debris and took it out to the trash, never to return.

* * *

Four-ten. And the wedding was supposed to start at four. He could make allowances for any number of screw-ups but surely the ceremony should have started by now. No one from the bomb squad had arrived, so they couldn't have discovered it, but the place wasn't a smoking ruin either. More important, no panic-stricken mob, milling around like sheep. He needed that mob to get to his target. They must be covering it up, he realized. They'd defeated two of his lethal death-traps and they were _still_ going on with the ceremony!

That broad must really want to be married.

Or…it was a trap for him. Leader always said, look for the hidden motives of others. They'd found his bombs, they must be hoping to catch the bomber.

Too bad for them his last trap wasn't a bomb!

* * *

Morgan paraded around the room, smiling amiably and nodding absently in response to the congratulations he hadn't noticed he was no longer receiving. He was on autopilot, _Look at me, I'm with her_ running around in his head, along with _I hope she likes my song_ and _ I can't believe I pulled it off!_

Behind them they heard a familiar grunt.

"Hmm, well, if you absolutely must know," came Casey's voice, pitched so they could hear it, "The 'hot babe' is my daughter." Somebody started to mutter furiously, but Casey overrode him. "No, no, it's quite all right, I understand you meant it as a compliment. As for how the 'little runt', that was your phrase, wasn't it? 'Little Runt'? Well, whatever, I admit you seem to have it all over him, training, guns, and I have no doubt your seduction skills are first rate. And what's the runt got? Nothing, really, just enough guts and wits to get him two Medals of Valor. Tell me, Agent, how many Medals of Valor do _you_ have…?"

Morgan never heard the answer. Loud and vibrant guitar rang out, and almost everyone turned to the dance floor, Alex included.

Carina was fighting with Sarah!

"Wow, look at that," said Alex in awe. "It's beautiful."

Morgan took a second look, and noticed that neither of the combatants seemed to be hitting the other. It was like watching a Sonny Chiba film, only with, um, longer hair.

Alex pointed. "You broke up with _that_?"

"Yeah, well…she pissed me off."

"You're either the bravest or the most suicidal person I've ever met."

"You know, your father said the same thing."

The music stopped, and the two ladies hugged and laughed.

"It's nice to see them friends again," said Morgan.

Chuck slapped Carina right across the face!

"Oo, that's gonna leave a mark."

Carina jumped on Chuck, gave him a big hug and a bigger kiss.

"Wow. Not what I expected at all."

Chuck moved in to kiss Sarah–again!–but Alex caught sight of Carina and her date leaving the room, hands giving every sign of their intentions. She turned away, dragging Morgan with her, as the DJ spun up something classical. "Oo, _True Lies_."

"Care to tango?" asked Morgan, misquoting.

"No I don't," she said, breaking the mood. "Let's go say hi to Ellie."

The General was standing over by the wedding presents, glaring at the table.

"Something wrong?" asked Alex, as they came close.

Ellie twisted her pen in the air. "There's something different about this table, I can't put my finger on it. Do either of you notice anything odd?"

Morgan moaned, and they both looked at him as he moved like a man in a dream to the table. A bunch of DVDs tied with a ribbon, sat on top of a heavy crystal dish. "Oh my God, is that the complete Criterion Science Fiction collection on Blu-Ray?" He lifted it up, cradled it to his cheek lovingly.

"Yes," said Ellie, pulling it away and putting it back where it came from. "The Lensmen sent it, or one of them did. They both got promoted and couldn't attend." She looked down to make sure the package was centered. "What's this?"

"What's what?" asked Morgan, reaching out a hand to touch the item she stared at.

"Don't touch it," she snapped, and he pulled his hand away. Ellie turned, and scanned the room. "I have to find Sarah. Don't touch that, don't let anyone touch it until I get back, understand?" Morgan and Alex nodded. Ellie walked away, wondering how it could be so hard to hide a tall blonde in a white dress.

* * *

'Aunt Diane' was keeping a weather eye out for her namesake. The reception was going beautifully, although she didn't know most of the songs and wasn't about to try dancing to any of them. The current selection was more her style, but Mr. Barker had found himself another companion, and without Roan–something was the matter, Ellie looked upset.

Did she actually just position Mr. Grimes and Ms. McHugh as _guards_? What needed guarding? Where was Ellie going? She wasn't coming to…She was looking for Sarah!

"Mr. Clark," she said peremptorily, and the nearest of her detail turned instantly. "Find out what those two are being so protective of."

Mr. Clark raised his hand, and issued quick instructions to his team.

* * *

Ellie forced her way through the crowd at the edge of the floor. No wonder she couldn't see Sarah, she and Chuck were–oh my! Devon never taught him how to dance like _that!_

* * *

Mr. Smith came up to her, relieving Mr. Clark to get some punch.

"Well?"

"She doesn't tango." He held out his hand, holding a small screen in it. The image was askew, taken with a lens in his boutonniere as he'd been asking Alex to dance. A large boxy thing, wrapped in ribbon. A glass dish. Under the edge of the dish–"Orion." Ellie would definitely take that news to Sarah first. She looked up at her man's face, tapping the screen. "Get that package. Quickly."

* * *

With Mr. Smith at her side, Mr. Clark was free to use the bathroom. Just after he left, another of Chuck's 'four large unsmiling cousins' came over to chat with the young lady by the gift table. Morgan didn't take this well.

As the encounter progressed, neither side raising their voices for fear of spoiling a happy occasion, Mr. Clark scuttled underneath the table and reached up an arm, feeling for and finding the slim rectangular box.

* * *

Ellie came back, defeated by the tango, and immediately noticed the absence of the package. "What happened? Where'd it go?"

As Morgan and more importantly Alex pointed out that only a couple of Beckman's men had even come over, and neither of them had gotten close to the table, Ellie scanned the room, finding three of them easily. Where was the fourth?

Just then Mr. Clark came in the door, and Ellie studied him. Something a little odd about–then another of his detail came up, blocking her view, and when they parted she could no longer see whatever she thought she'd seen. "Dammit." She went hunting, looking as if she was just going about her usual rounds.

"What was that all about?" asked Morgan.

"I don't know," said Alex, her curiosity aroused.

* * *

The man sat in his car, eating stale take-out.

Suddenly he smiled. "You eat hearty now," he said to a room full of people, none of whom could hear him, and laughed some more. _Dance. _Get that blood moving.

* * *

"Something romantic," Alex called to the DJ, as she dragged her boyfriend out onto the floor. When the music started she took the opportunity to pull him in close. "Morgan, I found it."

"Found what?"

"Ellie's package."

"You've been looking for that all this time?"

"Of course. What did you think I was doing, silly?"

_Planning to break up with me._ "No idea. So where is it?"

"The General has it."

"Ellie has it? So why was she looking for it?"

"Not _that_ General, Morgan, the other General. Aunt Diane. Her men have been passing it around all night but they gave it to her a little while ago."

"We have to get it back."

"Maybe we should talk to Ellie first…"

"Are you kidding?" At Ellie's fourteenth birthday Morgan had stayed under her table all night and no one had noticed, but he decided not to mention these qualifications to Alex. "I can do this. Just get Ellie to talk to Beckman, I'll do the rest."

The music stopped.

"Chuck?" said Sarah, sounding distressed, and Morgan looked over there, as did everyone near.

* * *

Ellie looked exhausted, poor dear. Aunt Diane knew that feeling. The crisis averted, you suddenly realize you haven't eaten for half a day and practically fall over. She had assistants to make sure she ate and rested, but Ellie had no one. If Chuck's song truly was the last song, she'd be feeling the same release. Beckman moved her bag under her seat as 'the General' made her way over to her, and pulled out a chair. "Sit. You've been on your feet all night."

"Thank you, Diane." Ellie sat, nibbling on some of the cold buffet food Alex had handed to her, before mentioning that Aunt Diane had been looking a little lonely all night. "Did you have a good time…?"

* * *

Morgan must have had a touch of schnook in him too. No one noticed him now.

* * *

Some time later, as Ellie stood to leave, the man on watch turned to verify his principal's safety. "Ma'am, your bag is open."

Beckman pulled it out from under her chair. "The box!" Did Ellie–? No. There was Grimes rushing over to Miss McHugh, looking like a man with a secret, and she had no doubt what that secret was. Who was nearest? "Colonel!" she called to Casey, "Stop him!"

Casey snagged Morgan by the collar, bringing the smaller man to a sudden stop. "What's the matter, Grimes?" he muttered in low tones. "What do you have there?"

Morgan gave up quickly. "It's Chuck's," he yelled, holding up the package as various heads started to turn. "They took it, we were just taking it back!"

Casey snatched the box and pushed the bearer away as people converged from all directions, including, dammit, Chuck and Sarah.

"Hand it over, Colonel," said Beckman. "It's a matter of national security."

"What is?" asked Sarah.

Ellie frowned at the General. "Dad's wedding present."

Chuck spotted the little box, slightly larger than an eyeglass case. "Is that what I think it is?"

This was getting out of hand. "Colonel," said Beckman, holding out her hand.

Casey looked down at the little box, and up at her. "I've worked with Chuck Bartowski for three years now. He's saved my life and my honor countless times, and I trust him with both." He stepped over to the groom and tucked the box in an inside pocket of his jacket. "I think we can trust him with this."

Beckman's face went as red as her hair. "I gave you an order."

"It's Chuck's present. Unless someone here thinks they can take it." He stood in front of Chuck, and Sarah moved to stand next to him.

"Hey, Ladyfeelings, is there a problem?" Dimples and his crew positioned themselves behind Beckman's team, and _loomed_. "Something we can help out with, maybe? I'd hate for anything to spoil Tough Guy's wedding day."

Casey looked at Beckman. "Is there, General?"

Generals don't cave, that's what strategic withdrawals are for. "Colonel, a word with you, please." She stepped over to a spot near the kitchen, with all the food already served the clearest and quietest spot in the room. It got a little clearer, as everyone got as far as they could from something that promised to be unpleasant.

* * *

The man got out of his car and walked into the kitchen entrance, looking and acting like he belonged. He'd waited long enough! This is why he hated poisons. At least with blades you knew when your target was dead. He looked through the window into the banquet hall, anticipating the wonderful sight of people everywhere dying from his special sushi, medical personnel scrambling, chaos.

He didn't see that.

Government agents were standing there, staring at the door, staring at him! Probably a horde brining up the rear right now.

Trapped!

The refrigerator door cracked open.

His right hand pulled out a gun, the left flicked out his straight razor, and with a bellow of rage Heinrich kicked open the door, grabbing the first hostage he could find, somebody's grandma. "Nobody move or the old bat dies," he shouted, razor at her throat. He pointed the gun at the big man, the only man anywhere close. "Back off!"

Casey backed off, as just about everyone in the room pulled out a gun and took aim.

* * *

The server with the corroded pot of wilted flowers didn't hear the shouting over the pounding of her own heart. She'd tried to keep the flowers from that handsome blond guy for herself, but now she had to get the smelly mess out of the refrigerator and into the dumpster as fast as she could, before the manager found it. She'd be fired for sure!

* * *

"You're gonna kill me, I know you're gonna kill me," said Heinrich, "You all should've been dead three times over and I don't know why you're not, but I'm going to do one thing before I go. Leader promised me I would get to kill Martin Carmichael, and I'm here to collect!" He turned and pointed the gun at his target.

A knife flew out of nowhere and lodged itself deep in his hand! He dropped the gun with a cry of pain.

Beckman jerked her head back, slamming her skull into his nose. Casey jumped forward, grabbing the straight razor with his bare hand!

Heinrich shifted hands, holding on to Beckman with his wounded hand as he twisted the blade, trying to dig it deeper, force Casey to let go. The nerves in the center of Casey's hand were already dead, though, and he held on doggedly, blood flowing without pain.

No one dared to fire at the struggling trio. Morgan stared around from his position all the way at the back, all these guys with guns and no one doing anything! He'd show them. Well, he would if he had a gun. He looked around. _Come on, there's gotta be something I can use!_

The tray! And because Morgan was Morgan, he had a Marty McFly moment, wondering in that infinite second if this was what Chuck felt like all the time. Then the second ended, and he threw down his pie–well, he would have if he'd been holding a slice of pie–and picked up the tray, flipping it over. He cocked his arm back and started to swing.

Sarah dropped her skirts to free up her legs for fighting.

Morgan's brain slagged, just for a moment but the moment was enough, and the heavy disk pulled out of his fingers early, the improvised weapon flying slow and wobbly towards–"Chuck!"

Chuck saw the danger and reacted instantly, snatching the disk out of the air and spinning about. He flung out his arm, tray spinning with perfect control and flying straight into the side of Heinrich's head, dropping him where he stood.

The sound of the dish falling to the floor was the loudest sound in the room.

"Yeah!" shouted Chuck, raising his arms triumphantly. "Me and Bryce! Stanford Quad Frisbee Champions, four years running!" He dropped his arms, staring at all the people staring at him. "What?"

* * *

A few days later…

Sarah opened the door, of course. He wasn't expected. "Casey? What are you doing here?" She tried not to stare at his heavily-wrapped hand.

He hated it when people did that. "General Beckman said to be here." He moved inside, looking around. "What do you got there, Bartowski?"

Chuck held it up. "It's a Frisbee! Dimples and all the guys signed it and everything."

Casey gave Chuck's trophy the once-over, smirking. "Yeah, they like to throw stuff, and you've displayed your mastery of the deadly art of Frisbee-fu."

Chuck lowered his trophy. "Casey, what have I told you about acting like a human being?"

The big man sighed. "It's Grimes. The little twerp's rubbing off on me."

Sarah grinned. "Sorry to hear that." She tried to close the door.

"Hey!" yelled Carina from the other side. "Watch the nose, it's real!"

"What's the matter, Miller?" asked Casey as Sarah reopened the door and the redheaded agent came in. "Tired of your little cop chew-toy already?"

She gave him a look that made him very uncomfortable. "Lots of play left in that one yet, but no. I was told to be here before noon, which you'll be happy to know–" she made a show of checking her watch "–I am."

Sarah grabbed her wrist and took a look for herself, and let out a puff of annoyance. "Great. Chuck, you think we can be ready for distinguished high-ranking visitors in less than five minutes?"

He set the Frisbee carefully on a shelf. "Watch me, wife."

Her favorite thing. "Make me proud, husband."

Casey and Carina missed half of it just from rolling their eyes. Somehow all it looked like was Chuck walking once around the room, but things just seemed to vanish as he passed.

"You flashed on housekeeping, Bartowski?"

Chuck laughed. "If Dimples is in my head, I doubt it's for his janitorial skills. Please, sit. You look like you just got here."

"We _did_ just get here," said Carina, placing her bag down carefully before flopping into the nearest chair. Some things never changed. Sarah went to the kitchen to make coffee just as the doorbell rang.

Casey went to get it. "Aunt Diane? Uh, hi?" He went to salute.

"At ease, Colonel," she said quickly, as his bandaged hand came up. "By rights I should be saluting you. But neither of us is in uniform right now so let's just let it be."

Chuck smiled, and held out his arms. "Hugs?"

She sighed. "It's your dignity."

"Bending is only undignified if you do it for the wrong reason." Chuck got his hug, but no one else was quite willing to follow suit.

"Okay, now that you've gotten that out of your system, I brought lunch," said Beckman at last. She went to the window and made a signal.

"That's not why you gathered us here." Casey opened the door to admit Mr. Clark, with an armload of bags from Chuck's and Sarah's favorite Chinese restaurant.

"No, it's not, Colonel," said Beckman as Chuck directed the assistant to put the bags on the newly-cleared-off table. She didn't say anything more.

Mr. Clark put the bags down and offered his hand to Chuck. "Thank you for your actions, sir," he said, and turned and left the room.

His boss watched him leave, and turned to her host. "He never does that." Sarah came out with some plates. "Well, dig in, everybody," said the General as she set them down. "I hope you were all accurate in your reports since that was my source for picking out your favorites."

They were accurate.

Beckman waited until they were all ready. "Chuck, I have something for you." She pulled a velvet box from her bag and handed it to Casey, who passed it on.

Chuck opened it, and looked up in shock. "This is a DIC, General."

Sarah dropped her plate, spilling her water. Carina started to choke.

"I know it is, Chuck." Beckman cleared her throat. "For his service to his country, the CIA has awarded the highest honor it has to give, the Distinguished Intelligence Cross, to Agent Daniel Shaw." Her tone changed, less formal. "However, he died without family, and has no one to receive it. We could have put it on display somewhere, but considering that his service to his country was also service to you, I thought it more fitting that you and yours should take care of it."

Chuck handed the case to his wife. "It would be our honor, General."

"The citation is inside." Diane looked at Carina.

"My turn?" Carina looked…flustered. She went and got her bag and took out a gift box, shirt-sized. "Chuck, this is my most treasured possession, but it's not a 'wedding reception' sort of present so I'm giving it to you now, because I know it's your most treasured possession as well."

Chuck took the box and set it on the table, pulling on the ribbon. He lifted the lid, pulled aside the paper…and stopped, staring. He looked up at Carina.

"Well, what is it, Bartowski?" snapped Casey.

Chuck lifted it out, a clear acrylic plaque with a base, and set it upright on the table. Preserved within the plastic was a handprint made of blood. He touched his fingertips to it. "All that love and devotion, boiled down to you."

"That's not what I said, Chuck."

"I know, Casey. But it's what you meant."

Sarah put down Shaw's medal. "I promised to kill you, Carina. You treasure that?"

"You are doom to your enemies, Sarah. That's what you promised, and that's what I treasure." She picked up her soup, and grinned a Carina grin. "I don't think I'd have treasured the actual doom so much, though, so I'm glad we managed to skip that part."

Casey slurped his hot and sour soup appreciatively, raising an eyebrow. "'Doom to her enemies'?"

"I told you I had to upgrade my banter, Casey. How'd you expect me to talk, hanging around with Mr. Lord-of-the-Rings all the time?"

Chuck gave her a thumbs-up, his mouth full of lo mein.

Casey grunted an acknowledgement. He held up his hand, not quite touching the plaque. He'd touched that blood once already and had no desire to do so again. "How'd you get it off the door?"

Carina focused on catching a wonton with chopsticks. "Ask Muffin. He used wax, I think he said. Not sure what else."

"A problem for another day," said Beckman, taking back control of her meeting. "Oh yes. Sarah, I have something for you, too." Beckman handed her a throwing knife. "We recovered it from that man with the razor. That was an excellent toss."

"But General, that's not–"

"I'm quite sure that it is, Sarah, although having seen you in that bodice and without your skirts I must say I don't know where you had it hidden. But that toss must have been yours. The only other person there was Chuck, and we know _he_ didn't make it, don't we?"

"An analyst? Please," commented Carina. She glanced at Chuck. "No offense intended."

"None taken."

"By you," muttered Sarah.

"Here, let _me_ hold the knife," said Carina quickly.

"Sorry, it's mine."

"So," said General Beckman, satisfied. "We have the deeds of the past properly honored, and the unfulfilled promises of futures that we succeeded in making sure never happened. For the present, though, we have this." She spread her arms, taking in the whole table. "The NSA's coldest killer–" Casey seemed pleased by the description "–the CIA's greatest agent, and–" For a second the General seemed to be at a loss for words. "And Carina."

Sometimes there _were_ no words.

"You did this, Chuck. You got these three people to stand by you and even swear by you. I don't know how you managed it with them, but I know what you did for me. I was prepared to have those glasses your father made taken by hook or by crook, Mr. Bartowski, and I'll make no apologies for that. But now I think, I _believe_, as Colonel Casey does, there are no safer hands than yours."

"Thank you, General. Some day, far in the future, I hope, I may want, or need, to use those glasses, but that day is certainly not now." He didn't bother to mention that his father had sent him and Ellie the code, so they could always make more if they chose to.

"No, Mr. Bartowski, I'm afraid that day is not now. I have a mission for you."

"For us?"

"General…?"

"Yes, Chuck, only you and your team can handle this dire threat. The Deadly Scorpion League has raised their evil heads once more. We need a young couple to pose as vacationing honeymooners, to track down their members."

Chuck grinned. "Deadly Scorpion League, huh?"

Aunt Diane shrugged. "You loaned me the movie, and I needed a name." She got all General-y again. "Mr. Bartowski, do you accept this assignment?"

Chuck looked around his table, taking in all the smiles. "Our country needs us, General."

"I expected no less. You leave for Europe tomorrow night. Your quarry seems to favor trains for their meets, so we've booked passage for you on the Orient Express, to be followed by whatever other lines the Intersect may…sniff out."

Sarah cleared her throat. "That sounds pretty…open-ended, General."

"It is, Sarah, and I'm sorry I can't give you a firmer itinerary. This mission could go on for two, possibly even three weeks."

"We won't let you down, General," said Casey.

"I know you won't, Colonel. In fact, I don't see how you can."

They all toasted to the success of the mission.

Chuck turned to his wife. "We'll need new identities, former Agent Carmichael."

"All arranged, Chuck." Said Beckman, grinning with hideous glee. "Or should I say, _Mr. Charles_?"

* * *

Two weeks and five days later…

Chuck and Sarah stood in front of their house, their own front door. "Glad to be back, Mrs. Bartowski?"

"More than ever, Mr. Bartowski."

"I hear you. Who would have guessed so many bad guys use the train?"

Sarah snorted. "I'm betting not the General. Hurry up with the door, I'm beat. I haven't got a single _y'all_ left in me."

"As you wish." He speared the lock and opened their sanctum. "Wait right here."

"What now, Chuck? I want to go to _bed_." And not in a good way.

"Just a second." He took their suitcases and all their stuff and dumped them just inside the door, then went back outside. "See? That didn't take long, did it?"

"Haven't you forgotten something, Chuck?"

"Only one thing left." He scooped her up in his arms. "A proper homecoming, for a proper wife."

He stepped across the threshold.

"You can put me down now."

"I don't think so. Didn't you say something about wanting to go to bed?"

She nodded.

"Do you still want me to put you down?"

She shook her head.

"Let me just get the door."

She kicked out one foot, shutting the door on everything that wasn't just them. "Got it."

He smiled and kissed her again. "Yes, you do." Chuck turned his back on the door and the world on the other side of it. Tomorrow was always tomorrow, but tonight was _their_ night. "Welcome home, Mrs. Bartowski."

* * *

**A/N2 And that's the end.**

My thanks to all of you who stuck it out with me through this long ride. Your comments and assistance with certain scenes is always and much appreciated.

I have been gathering all the chapters together in a single document, which I will convert into a PDF file as quickly as I can. I plan to put it up on my website at some point, but I'm very slow about that sort of thing, so if you'd like a copy with any kind of speed send me a PM with an email to shoot it to. I have managed to overwrite all the barf that was canon in my brain, so I hope this will work for you too.

This is the last thing that I have in mind to write for Chuck. I may come back some time for a S5 rewrite, but no promises. The red door ending I gave above is actually the ending I wanted for S5, more or less. I didn't have anything in here about Chuck's old house or his mother, either. I hate it when an author sticks in a hook to force us into the next part of the story, it's unpleasant and manipulative, so I didn't do it myself.

If there are any threads I forgot to tie off, or mysteries I left unexplained (or explained badly, sorry about the roses) please leave a comment. If you liked or hated what I did to your most loved or hated characters, please leave a comment. If you just want to say "So long, and thanks for all the fish", please leave a comment.


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